endnote
by nervedamaged
Summary: Beth's world is falling apart, the only two people who knew about her secret took it to their graves, struggling with the reality that the only member of her family who hasn't died is now missing; will she have enough courage to trust Daryl to keep her deepest darkest secret? #Bethyl
1. unformidable

_endnote._

**Chapter One**

In her dreams, what little dreaming she did, it was always the same. The same slide from that never-ending scene that changed everything, it inched it's way into her subconscious; it was always that moment right before he did it that haunted Beth night after night. She and Maggie had watched, wide eyed, open mouthed, speechless. Just like that fateful day she was paralysed again, stuck to the spot with an unformidible realisation of what would happen next. There was a sickening copper tasting bile rising in her throat and a guttural scream stuck in her mouth. She tried, she promise she tried to drag her eyes away but her father's own eyes bore down into her soul, seeping into her chest and grabbing a tight hold on her heart - squeezing till she was afraid she would pass out. But she never did, her mind processed everything in it's minute details till she could no longer make sense in her waking hours what was continually jumbled up in her sleep.

Hershel had maintained eye contact with her till the very end. Beth stood aghast, tears streaming down her face, her ability to look away hampered by her inability to stop shaking, she ached to look away to spare her innocence the cruelty of watching her father's execution but fear has set in and what little she owed him in this instance was drowned out by the need to see it through to the end, no matter what that end would bring.

When it happened, when all they could see was red and the light had gone out in her father's eyes that's when the screaming started. Sometimes it was Maggie who grabbed her arm and shoved her in the direction of the bus, sometimes it was Daryl who grasped her hand and pulled her away, in the hysteria she had imagined things that never really happened, her mind had hoped to cushion the blow of a reality where she wished she'd made the whole thing up and upon waking she would find her father sitting there right next to her. Alive.

In the commotion she lost her sister, what and who was there one minute vanished the next, till all that was left was a massive plume of smoke, a hail of bullets and this never-ending screaming that with a thick realisation she knew came from her own shattered heart.

Dazed. Vision blurred and ringing ears from all the explosions that reverberated around her, the bile rose further up her throat till it flooded into her mouth and she couldn't hold it down any more; retching she had vomited and stomach acid burned her lips as it spewed out. Blind-sided and even weaker than before she hadn't seen the walker's hand reaching for her leg, she'd felt the fingers close around her ankle and hadn't the energy to scream any more; ready to except her fate Beth had turned around to greet it a sudden calmness coming over her despite all the devastation; the walker's hand moved further up her leg till it's teeth were inches away from her calf, blood soaked saliva hanging from what was left of it's jaw. She'd pushed the gun away, raising her face to the sky waiting for the bite that wasn't far off. But it did not come; what ensued that moment was a sharp bolt shot through the walker's eye, the arrow protruded from it's head with a beady eyeball attached to the other end totally detached from it's skull. Beth could have wretched again but then he had her arm and he was pulling her to her feet, nails digging in like both their lives depended on it. In the haze and mist all she could see was wings, she foolishly thought it was an angel and she really had been bit; this was the way to heaven and there was a moment of hope that she would see her mother again.. but that wasn't the only hope that she remembered; no there was a very different kind of hope her father had spoken of when they first found themselves surrounded by thick prison walls.

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><p><em>"If you don't have hope, what's the point of living.."<em>

* * *

><p>His hope, his words and his faith had been imprinted on her since this had all started; she carried a secret with her that could save every single last one of them and the only two other people who knew had taken to their graves. It was a secret that was too heavy to carry on her own, her heartstrings hurt not only for her loss but for whatever her future may bring; if she fell into the wrong hands and the truth was outed. What then? She'd kept her eyes pinned to the wings, to the crossbow held by a strong arm and to the fingers that were still curled around her own.<p>

**"Com'on we've gotta go!"**

He'd said gruffly and they'd run till they physically could no longer hold themselves up, and they'd collapsed inches from each other breathing hard. When they'd made a mini camp and just stopped that's when it all came flooding back and Beth had cried herself to sleep with Daryl in the background watching her shoulders shake...

When she'd fallen asleep, she'd dreamt.

And her dream of dreaming had fuzzed around the edges phasing out and sticking itself in reverse before playing the whole morbid ordeal over and over again till Beth was woken from her thrashing nightmares by Daryl; his hand lingered on her forearm and he spoke softly, kindly to her. she'd never had much of a reason to have any conversation with him before; she was weak and he was just the opposite, they were both two sides of a very different set of coins.

She sat up, leaning on her hands as she watched him silently return to his place beside the fire. **"You hungry?"** he offered a plate of something mushy in her direction. She shook her head, tears had dried on her cheeks and she felt dirty, exhausted and dirty and lost and so many more feelings that if she let them, would consume her. **"You gotta eat.."** he pressed as he held the plate out to her again, even though it was only a statement rather than an order. **"I'm not.."** she whispered; she'd lost her voice in the aftermath. **"I can't.."** she tried again then eventually gave up and shook her head again, this time with a fleeting glance at him, he'd seen it bad back at the prison too; the wear and tear on his face was visible; she wondered if she looked the same.. she sure felt like it tonight.

Hypnotized by the flickering flames at Daryl's feet, Beth's memory took her back to a memory that she'd buried some time ago, when all these people had started to become walkers.

_She'd been out to help Maggie and her father herd the cattle back to the barn; there was a thick fog that hugged the ground that evening, thick enough that it made it difficult to see her sister let alone a steer. There hadn't been a sound, no warning no nothing. Suddenly they were just surrounded, and running back in the direction of the farmhouse; She'd tripped, landed hard and dislocated her shoulder; there was agony followed swiftly by another kind of pain, this pain stemmed from her thigh creeping up into her pelvis as shot rang out and a pressure replaced that pain; shifting her position as easily as she could, Beth caught a good hard look at what had attached itself to her leg. Whatever it was, it wasn't human – she'd only started screaming when she noticed the blood that soaked her pant leg; her thigh throbbed and Maggie was there dragging her along best as she could, her father firing off round after round at the advancing mob. She'd fainted from blood-loss and that should have been the end; it would have been easy if it has just ended like that, but drifting in and out she survived, her skin knitted itself back together but the jagged scar remained... weeks, months later some wanders had disturbed their peace, a young boy was shot and the whole world as she knew it changed on a dime... She didn't die... and she didn't turn... She was immune.._

Daryl knew shock when he saw it; picking up a muddied blanket, he draped it over Beth's shoulders, she didn't move, didn't even acknowledge his gesture just stared into the open flames rocking back and forth. Reluctantly he settled down beside her, his crossbow laid across his lap, keeping watch.

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><p><em>"of dust we rise and dust we part.."<em>

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><p><em>(Lyric Credits: "Aftermath" by Vancouver Sleep Club)<em>


	2. civilian

_endnote._

**Chapter Two**

Since this had all begun Daryl had no end of time to think about how things had all gone down, how swiftly the shit had hit that fan and how his already fractured relationship with his brother had dealt a deeper grove right down the centre when Merle had been left on top of the roof in Atlanta. He envied the pretty little lives that the others in the group had, but the one he envied the most was Beth's, her close knit family network had seen blow after blow since they'd left the farm and even some time before that but they kept on stronger than ever. That was till The Governor had executed Hershel right there in front of the prison; Maggie and Beth's brave faces showed only raw emotional anguish, his heart had hurt that day, not for him; but for her. For Beth.

It had been days since Beth's world turned upside down, felt like weeks since they'd been separated from the group and months since they'd eaten a decent meal that didn't consist of near rotten berries, grass snakes and a watery bran mash they'd found a bag of in a house along their route. Sleeping was an afterthought, he slept only a few hours each night, waking every few to check and rest a comforting hand on his companion - whose night terrors were so close to taking over. He found himself wishing he could place himself in her dreams and fight off whatever demons she faced that night. He would do it for her in a heartbeat, though he wouldn't admit it out loud.

Admitting he cared was reckless; openly showing his emotions was not something he'd ever had the pleasure of feeling, there was compassion deep down in his heart of hearts and every so often, like the weeks following the disappearance of Sophia, it surfaced and knocked him for six; made him feel weak and he wished it would retreat into the shallows again. But this time it was different. This time he didn't want to push it away; his shattered group was more of a family to him now than his own family had been before the apocalypse began. He felt physically displaced by the missing and awkwardly selfless towards the life Beth was now having to live.

His brother would have smacked him upside the head for this; belittled him and made him believe he was worth not an ounce of weight in gold. For a second Daryl was glad he was gone, now he had nothing to tie him to his messed up past, nothing to remind him of those dark days and only an ever brighter shining light in the form of an eighteen year old girl who was curled up next to him, the firelight dancing across her beautiful features. Beth's light had made him feel for once in his life, made him feel human – it was unfamiliar, oddly warming and just a little bit nice. But Beth's light was flickering in the sadness that consumed her, lying in the same position she'd been for hours he watched the rise and fall of her chest. She'd slept most of the day, and when she wasn't sleeping she was sobbing albeit quietly to herself in the corner of their little camp. Daryl yearned to comfort with more than just a simple hand gesture, with more than the odd fleeting gaze. He wanted to pull her close and hug her, tell her everything would be alright, stroke her hair and hush her as she cried. He ached to be there for her the way he wished someone had be there for him as he was growing up.

But even that was foreign to him.

Clearing his throat he shifted his weight to ease an injury to his side that he'd obtained in the confusion at the prison, totally blind-sided by two walkers he had regretfully missed the burly bloke who rammed the butt of his rifle into Daryl's ribs. It wasn't serious and he welcomed the pain, at least that meant he was still alive. They were both still alive. He wondered how many of his new family could say the same, he wondered where they were and a brief wave of sadness washed over him. If Beth didn't eat soon she would be too weak to carry on, even crying needed strength that her little self just didn't have any more. Holding back the emotion he placed his crossbow beside him in the darkness and struggled to his feet. He was getting too old for this! Within a few strides he'd reached the fire and taking the charred squirrel meat down broke it into a bite-sized sections. Reaching for his canteen, he crossed the camp passed the bow and set it down next to Beth's slight form. With a deep breath he shook her awake and offered a small understanding smile when her bleary eyes focused on him. Helping her to sit upright he took a chance and slipping off his jacket Daryl placed it over her shoulders, **"Com'on kid, you need these wings more than I do right now.."** - he propped her pale, ghostly figure against his own silhouette, adjusting and pulling the jacket around her tighter. A new form of compassion had replaced everything he knew from before this moment; reaching for the plate of food, he coaxed Beth to eat, even if only a little at a time. They may have been alive, Daryl thought, but what good was alive if they forgot how to live. Patiently he waited, every bite, every wretch, every tear... it took several hours before all that was left was crumbs and an exhausted Beth had cried herself to sleep in his arms; he was surprised at how natural it felt to just be and hold her.

* * *

><p>"<em>I wanted to love you like I wanted to give you everything.."<em>

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><p>Placing a light kiss on the top of her head, Daryl pulled the bow closer and took up his familiar position, keeping watch.. over the both of them.<p>

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><p>"<em>I know my faults, but I can hide them.."<em>

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><p><em>(Lyric Credits: "Civilian" by Wye Oak)<em>


	3. prosthetic love

_**Favs**: 12, **Reviews**: 4, **Followers**: 31 – sweet bejeebus peeps! The most I've had on any of my stories so far! ^^ Thank you so much, hope you enjoy this next chapter, and remember – reviews are best served with warm milk & cookies, but seeing as we're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse how about warm blood, guts & gore!? ~ Enjoy! x_

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><p>endnote.<p>

**Chapter Three**

Dread. If ever there was a feeling to describe what the pit of Beth's stomach felt like right now, dread would pretty much sum it up nicely. Sick to her stomach was a close second and pulling swiftly into third place was a gut wrenching intuition that what they were about to do was borderline suicidal. She swallowed hard and felt her dehydration in the back of her rasping throat. She wondered how they'd found their way to this place and just how many people had been here before them thinking the exact same thoughts. Whether they too had tried... and failed.. Would they fail? Or would luck be in their favour today? Beth wasn't so sure of either way any more, slightly disorientated she found it ironic that before the apocalypse you wouldn't get her remotely close to the edge of a vertical drop and yet here she was standing at the edge of a never-ending pit of darkness. It was almost claustrophobic.

Weeks had passed since she'd lost her parental support and though in the beginning it felt like she wouldn't make it Beth had begun to show signs of an appetite, of being interested in something other than just sleeping and whilst there were days when she was overwhelmed with sadness, there were the odd good days where everything didn't feel so messed up, and she even managed a few smiles at Daryl's silly jokes. She'd gained the support of another in this time, his sheer tenacity had saved her life and she owed him, big time.

She obviously couldn't hide the fear from her features because Daryl had his semi reassuring smile facing in her direction. It wasn't helping, she was terrified. The floor boards creaked under her feet and she nearly had a heart attack. They'd found their way along a trail that led deep into the woods just outside Atlanta before they'd come out the other side in a small town that had only one street and a couple of stores; taking what they could from the outdoors and hiking centre, a few cans of meatloaf and beef jerky from a couple of houses but when they had happened on this place it felt like finally someone was looking out for them. Beth would like to think that that was her father, but Daryl knew better, though he didn't say as much.

They'd made their way in through a broken window; Daryl had gone first clearing the way as best as he could but Beth had still nicked her leg just below her knee, the red seeped out and was now slowly drying on her pant leg. He'd forged ahead crossbow at the ready and she'd followed suit till they both found themselves standing in a giant atrium sized room, with arches and broken architecture everywhere. Standing. Staring down... into the chasm through the broken floorboards. Her hand reached for the flash-light dangling at her side, shining it downwards into the darkness everything the light touched shone like a mirror directly caught in the sunlight. The beam glazed over bottles, by the dozen, of water and Beth's parched mouth hurt as she imagined the cool liquid coursing down her throat. Rows upon rows of canned food, each label looking heavenly attractive to one who'd been eating bran mash and grass snake meat for the last few weeks. They'd hit on some kind of pantry; she couldn't make it out from the store they stood in, but maybe it had been someone's stash from the start, an almost post war shelter full of food. Feeling like she needed to double take she ran the flash-light back over what she had already illuminated; her gaze shifted towards Daryl who'd placed his crossbow some way a ways from the gap, the shelves were some two floors below them, the ground had given way and lay as debris at the bottom another floor lower.

"**How... we..?"** Before the words had even left her mouth she knew how they would get down there. She could have kicked herself for being so foolish, she was the slighter of the two, Daryl had the muscles and she was going down into the chasm whether she wanted to or not. Daryl's hands were already in the bag pulling out cords, rope anything they could use as a hoist to get down down there. Mentally she tried to prepare herself for what would happen; for years she'd been terrified of heights, and now she was to hang over a darkness-filled three story hole in the ground with only Daryl's strength to hold her from ending up in the same mess as the wood at the bottom.

"**Stay here"** Daryl instructed her, the mixture of ropes tied together at his feet did not give her confidence. **"We need a stronger rope"** he handed her his knife, hoisted his crossbow onto his shoulder and disappeared the way they'd come in. She swallowed audibly and nervously busied herself with emptying her bag so as to fill it with the supplies. He wasn't more than a few minutes returning with a smile on his face and a neon pink/orange climbing rope and clips suitable for an expedition into the floor. Beth couldn't help smiling back, greeting him with an equally warm gesture. Though they never really said much she never felt unsafe in his company, being with him felt like coming home to family. He was after all the only piece of "family" she had left from their recently shattered group.

As Daryl passed by her close proximity he stopped for a minute, eyes hesitantly searching her face; seeing the fear radiating out of her, with furrowed brow he gently reached for her hand squeezing it reassuringly; **"Ya ain't got nothing ta worry about, I ain't gone drop ya, a'right?"** he gathered up the rope and made a harness from a couple of sweatshirts, Beth shuffled into the makeshift hoist, looking up at him their eyes met; he'd not seen those eyes directly for weeks; it hit him right at the core. At a last stretch attempt at being brave she looked at him indignantly; **"You'd best not drop me Daryl; if I come back as a walker your brain is the first I'm eating!"** He couldn't tell if she was serious or not, but given the current situation and it's ominous meaning he held his hands up in mock surrender which was followed up by playful slap from Beth.

Throwing the rope round the stub of a broken pillar at the side of the room, Daryl came back to where Beth stood and tested the strength of their slapdash gear, if it held against his weight they'd be safe with Beth's slight frame. **"Ya ready?"** he asked, pulling on his leather gloves and preparing to form a human winch. **"As ready as I'll ever be..!"** Beth pushed the words out with as much enthusiasm as she could in the current climate. Lifting the empty bag over her head wearing over he shoulders she shimmied to the mouth of the hole, focusing on Daryl he nodded, braced and she disappeared over the edge.

Dangling in mid air she could hear Daryl grunting above, struggling to hold her weight and the weight of the bag that was slowly being packed with food. Reaching for another tin, Beth tried to keep the rope from swaying too much, another couple of bottles of water and she turned slightly to zip the bag closed. The rope moved dropping a little, **"Daryl.."** Beth uttered slightly unnerved, the bag, she'd flung over her shoulder slipped a bit, the rope shuffled slightly through her fingers. She stopped moving, slowing her breathing so she could concentrate.. **"Daryl...!"** there was urgency in her voice now, her younger self needed to hear him say something, anything at all. She needed reassurance – she needed to forget she was dangling from a rope in a black pit two stories in the air.

When it came she could have cried, but she composed herself... something was wrong.. **"Beth.."** his voice was strained.. **"Beth... drop the bag... Beth, I can't hold y... ya need ta drop the bag.."** another nudge as her stomach dropped the second time, the rope giving even more, struggling with the strap she tried to ease the bag over her head without compromising their situation further. It was too heavy. She needed one hand on the rope to steady herself, and with only one arm to lift the bag Beth was stuck.. stuck and slipping from Daryl's safe hands above. **"I can't... it's stuck... Daryl!"** though she'd started a mantra not to freak-out it was starting to work in reverse and all she could do now was the opposite. Panic bubbled up to meet her as the rope gave way at least a foot this time; dropping her lower into the ground; **"Daryl!, please I'm slipping...!" **she clutched for the shelves, their wooden slats inches from her fingers, too far to reach without swinging for them and causing the rope to slip further, reaching round she hurriedly unzipped the bad pulling the contents out and chucking it away, anywhere away from her and their imminent fate, Daryl shouted at her from above, it was inaudible but frantic; she'd stopped unpacking to look up to hear what he said when there was a graunching noise, a creak followed by a cracking sound... Glancing up she saw the rope come crumpling down towards her and Daryl's mortified face in the light above her.

The rope grew slack in her hands and with an ultimate feeling of dread she knew what was coming next but it didn't stop the scream from erupting from her mouth as she fell backwards into the darkness.

**"BETH!"  
><strong>

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><p>"In the dark I thought I saw you.. or was it nothing at all.."<p>

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><p><em>(Lyric Credits: "Prosthetic Love" by Typhoon)<em>


	4. bait

endnote.

**Chapter Four**

"I wish that I had known in that first minute we met..  
>.. that unpayable debt that I owed you.."<em><br>_

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><p>It was like the air had just fallen out from under her; there was nothing to cushion her fall but the tins and bottles in the bag that was still strapped to her body. The weight of it had pulled her down sharply and when she collided with the ground every inch of oxygen she had in her lungs was forcefully exhaled; the suddenness of the drop had left her ears ringing. With two of her senses inactive, Beth tried to open her eyes, the sluggishness of their response to her request was even more of a burden; blurry round the edges of her vision she was certain she'd smacked the back of her head hard on the concrete, it felt tender to the touch. Throbbing, boiling red liquid leaked out from a gash at the base of her hairline masked only by her long blonde hair that was now matted with blood. She felt nauseous and struggled to inhale anything but dust particles as they billowed around her in a cloud of haze; coughing, spluttering, the ache in her chest refused to go away making her feel like she'd had a stack of books dropped on her. She'd been asthmatic as a child; it had only lasted a few years and Beth's last attack had been well over twelve years ago, but in that moment right there, she felt the same breathing restrictions as those days she'd played in the hay-barn with Maggie and the world had spun till she'd passed out.<em><br>_

The world spun now.

Trying her eyes again, forcing them to respond to her request, Beth pushed for a little more focus and when darting around to "see" something in the encroaching dark - her eyes finally settled on the tiny crack of light above her. A face appeared, concealing some of the light and worried eyes surveyed her, their conclusion not looking anywhere near as good as she had hoped. Hurried hands depicted actions - "stay" and "still" - the figure spoke a flurry of fast words she couldn't hear; his lips moved but no sound returned to her ears. She worried she'd gone deaf and began to feel the panic rise from deep inside her. Furrowing her brow she squinted and tried again to see what he was saying.

Nothing.

Till now Beth hadn't moved; till now she'd forgotten that she lay draped rather unceremoniously over the bag and awkwardly splayed like a broken doll. The figure had said stay, he'd gestured to her to keep still. She'd just fallen two storeys onto her back and she hadn't moved – a conscious terror met the bile at the back of her throat as her brain commanded her arm, leg, hand, anything to move; wild thoughts crept into her mind and in a wild hysteria Beth's thought path crossed into unknown territory;

"_What if she was paralysed?"  
><em>"_What if she was finally done for and this is where her journey ended, at the bottom of a cellar in a remote town in the middle of nowhere?!"  
><em>"_What if this was the end and if it was, what then?"_

When her hand came up so fast it smacked her in the face Beth cried with relief, tears slipped from her dust creased eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks, creating lines of clean skin, laughing to herself she looked up and watched as man abseiled down a rope into cavern towards her with haste. He was talking at her again; words she couldn't make out, words her ears refused to hear. He clung on with one hand, a weapon extended in the other, pointed at something down below.

Pointed at her.

Her head wound had affected her memory more than she'd given it credit for – it had taken a while for her to find a name for the weapon in his hand and the face had features she recognised as the person she'd escaped the prison with. It was one thing being on the firing end of it, but being on the receiving end of the crossbow was terrifying. Her breath caught in her throat all laughter sucked from her. His face like steel he was only metres from her now and her relief from before was short lived. Beth felt something nudge her foot not once but twice and finally lifting herself into sitting position her eyes now adjusted to the low light around her; unwilling to drag her eyes away from the bolt drawing ever closer she tore her eyes away at the third nudge, eyes coming face to face with their worst nightmare.

It's bony decaying fingers clutched at her pant leg leaving dead residue behind and pulling Beth back into a fearful reverie from long ago. She knew how this went; how it had happened before and just how much that first bite burned every blood vessel she had in her tiny body. The survival instinct that had been entrenched in her since watching her father's execution caught Beth like a fire to paper and with a new found strength Beth heaved her butt backwards and underneath her as her leg disappeared from the walkers grasp just as Daryl's bolt embedded itself into it's skull.

Catching Daryl's eye she wordlessly nodded her thanks as he helped her out of the bag strap maze. Hauling her to her feet, he was steadfast as she steadied herself - handing her the red cloth he always had on his person, he placed a hunting knife into her right palm and ushered her behind him. She dabbed at the cut at the base of her skull and looking around finally saw what it was that Daryl had been aiming at.

They weren't standing in a cellar, the walls weren't solid concrete and the wooden food shelves weren't food shelves at all at this level. Swallowing hard Beth gripped the knife so tightly her fingers went white; standing back to back eyes darting all around them, she and Daryl were surrounded by a chain-link fence a mere 6ft high, from what they could see the walls behind were covered in dried blood and the "shelves" were broken auditorium seating. She let the hand holding the red cloth fall to her side as with wide eyed innocence Beth took in the scene before them... Her joy at being able to hear again was short-lived when all the sounds came together as one and she realised with horror their precarious situation. They were the "bait" in the middle of a fighting pit surrounded by a herd of starving walkers.

It took a moment for Daryl to mutter what they were both thinking...

**"Shit."**

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><p>"are you holding your breath again..?"<p>

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><p><em>(Lyric Credits: "Breathe" by RHODES &amp; "Kettering" by The Antlers)<em>


	5. immunity

endnote.

**Chapter Five**

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><p>"<em>We are weightless...We are <strong>invincible<strong>.."_

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><p>The floor rushed up to meet her as legs turned to jelly collapsing under her own weight, the hunting knife, Daryl had pressed into her palm only minutes before, slipped from her blood soaked hand and clattered to the ground just as strong arms embraced her, they folded around her small frame staggering slightly under her sheer dead weight. Together they sank to their knees, the ache in her chest burned boldly as the poison flooded her circulatory system. Drowning her from the inside out her frail crimson stained hands clutched his sleeves as the red dyed dust flew around them like a tornado sweeping through the massacre that lay before them.<p>

The wound on her neck had missed her carotid artery by mere inches but as the feeling of acid burned it's way through her veins everything she had in her wished it hadn't. His fingers surveyed the injury; his eyes refusing to look at hers and Beth forced back a pitiful sob as the world spun around her. Cold liquid was splashed onto broken skin, it's sharp cooling cleanliness made it sting; she shuddered feeling drunk in her own stupor. When she'd tried to speak she was hushed in a low whispering voice. It didn't feel like it had before when she was bitten a year previously. It felt all wrong, she had a reason to stick around this time...

He had looked at her then.

His face featured the pain that the rest of her body could not, as if looking at the wounded deer he'd just shot with one of his bolts; a sincerely apologetic rise of emotions when he cupped her face and, without hesitation, wiped a tear from her cheek. She hadn't realised she was crying; all but the aching inside her was numb, the same fear that flooded her the first time enveloped her again, tugging at her heartstrings as she realised the tears were for him. She looked at him now; looked at his red eyes and watched his every movement in painfully slow detail. She saw him pick up her hunting knife, saw him pull it towards him and hide it from her sight. He was ever thoughtful despite Beth already knowing what would come next. She had denied herself all the emotions she could possibly feel for him until now, the substitute protector was gone, what lay before her now was only a man. Only a human being about to become a lone traveller in their never-ending landscape of hell. She hurt for him more than she hurt for herself and a part of her wondered how she could have done it differently; dragging her eyes away from his she peered into the darkness as she forced her mind to go back, to remember what had happened...

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><p>Blood trickled down the back of her neck and she ached for a drink to ease the dryness of her throat. The hair on her arms prickled to attention and the devil's fingers stroked her spine, shivering under the touch Beth had pressed herself to him as they had danced back to back surveying their surroundings, round and round and round. There was no escaping this unscathed, she gripped the knife tighter as her other hand searched for his meeting it in the in-between as he also searched for hers; it was a brief contact, nothing more than fingers intertwining for a few seconds before all hell broke loose<p>

His red rag slid from her grip floating in slow motion towards the ground surrounded by chaos unleashed.

Once one squeezed through a tiny gap in the fence, so more followed and it wasn't long before there were too many to count, every one that Beth stuck with her knife was replaced by another and another and another, she threw them against each other and they'd toppled but kept on coming, her yellow top was a dark orange colour dripping with death and the stench was another thing entirely. The sound of a bolt shattering skull right next to her ear had her whipping round just in time to see a walker drop like a stone a fingerbreadth from her, it's rancid breath engulfed her escaping it's lungs as it crumpled. It was a close call and a stark reminder to her to pay attention. They fell like dominoes after that, Beth had a new found strength rising in her as the knife slipped so easily into every walker that came towards her; so much so that it was becoming harder to grip the hilt with so much blood covering her hands.

Minutes had passed and the walker herd lessened, till she was tripping over body parts and the blade of her knife eased into the throat of one of the last, going for gold the hilt hitting bone as the serrated tip burst through the brain stem and it fell away from her, landing awkwardly at her feet. Mentally exhausted Beth turned to face Daryl her unworried eyes watching as he felled more of them with a combination of bolt, knife and handgun. Chest heaving, she lifted a hand to run it through her hair but it had barely made contact when there was a bump to the middle of her back and a piercing burn in the crick of her neck just above her collar bone.

In an instant Daryl's crossbow was pointed at her, releasing a bolt that sped towards her and whizzed blindingly fast into the face of the walker that bit her. She didn't move, her shirt becoming an even darker shade of reddish orange. She could hear the sound of herself breathing, the sound of the air as it gushed into her lungs and she choked it out as it rushed back out of her body, as if it was trying to escape the uncertainty of her slow demise. Daryl was a blur as he'd run towards her. She'd felt herself pitch forwards unable to stop and the fear surrounding hitting the floor was with her all the way; but arms had reached her before the floor had and together they had fallen, the ground unforgiving on their knees.

Daryl had dropped his crossbow the moment she started falling; shock spread across her face and the wound bled profusely as panic rose in his throat. He'd caught her. He'd landed hard and his knees screamed at him for it. The salt stung his eyes as he furiously blinked the water away, fingers gently inspecting the bite noticing the beat of her heart faintly under the skin as a tear kissed his hand. Swallowing hard he brushed it away before turning her face to his; her lips moved silently as if trying to speak, he hushed her softly whilst reaching for her knife – her eyes followed him albeit wandering away to stare into the distance. Her breathing laboured and the heartbeat in her neck grew fainter though the wound had stopped bleeding..

"**Beth.."**

He whispered, but she didn't respond just gazed blindly into the darkness.

"**Beth.."**

He said again, this time a little louder, his sentence forgotten when she looked directly at him, tears glistening in her eyes, smiling slightly – the hand that reached for him never made contact and perching on the edge of all that she had ever known, breathlessly her chapped lips formed only one word before she passed out in Daryl's arms...

"**Immune.."**

* * *

><p>"<em>You said you'd always be fine.. You said forever was unkind"<em>

* * *

><p><em>(Lyric Credits: "Weightless" by Layla &amp; "Immunity" by Jon Hopkins)<em>


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